Dear Ego

Flying high up in the sky,
Camouflaging through contrast passing by,
Blinded in the game of,
An eye for an eye.

Sharp but brittle, a rusty knife,
Growing each day, surviving strife,
Seeing past a one sided mirror,
Admiring ephemeral beauty of so priced a life.

Losing plain sight, laying stress.
Watering weeds, making a mess.
Building a house for beauty,
With the bricks of hideousness.

And as time passes the mirrors shatter,
Weeds choke rose, dies the latter.
The book of your life my son, has
A background so strong it dissolves the matter.